First Impressions
by Morning Chrysanthemum
Summary: It seems they won't always be right. But who says that's a bad thing? USUK, FrUK, and AsaKiku at he end.


They say first impressions are important. How very true that can be, considering how you can tell a lot about a person by just meeting him or her once. Of course, that may not always be the case, if the person in question has a particularly unpredictable disposition, but it is here.

Somewhat.

Arthur Kirkland-also known as the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, or England for short—had often prided himself on expertly guessing at someone's personality at a mere glance. There was Alfred, embodiment of America. The day he met the exuberant boy was arguably the best part of his exceedingly long life. The sight of that innocent, happy smile moved his heart as nothing had done in a while. He could tell he was facing a blithe young man with a smile a sweet as fresh honey, though that would be apparent to _anyone _who met the former colony.

But then, how was he supposed to know the same youthful face that usually glimmered with grins could also be capable of shedding anguished tears? The voice that used to say, "Don't leave me alone! It's scary!" then told him of the wish to secede to be independent. Wasn't being independence the same as being alone?

That was what Arthur wanted to think. But while he couldn't exactly say he was independent, he always felt he would be utterly and completely alone.

It seems there _was _a difference, after all.

...

There was Francis, ever so perverted. England knew how he could act lewd and serious at the same time, though sometimes it was hard to tell when. Their marriage was purely political, seeing as they despised each other, but the Briton often wondered if he felt something more for the "frog" and vice versa. He'd die before admitting it, but there _were_ times when he actually liked that perverse touch that would be granted to him. Even so…

He heard laughing on the other side of the door. Drunken gaiety. He smirked at the voices, finding a new reason to tease the trio the next day. The smug smile melted immediately when he realized what exactly the guffaws were about.

Him.

"…ha, it's so un-awesome for a person to have no friends! Though what can you expect from a such a _schließen-in*, _eh?" The Prussian's voice was slurry, but the words cut through Arthur as a hungry knife would. Sounds of assent were heard from the Frenchman and the Spaniard.

"_Oui, mon ami._" "_Si!_" Though hiccups prevented those statements from being fluently uttered, the Englishman understood them perfectly. A knowing smile made its way to his face, the kind of smile that people show when they laugh bitterly at themselves. The effect was diminished by the single tear sliding down his face.

He walked away, saying nothing.

...

Ever since, he had devoted himself to never craving to understand another person again. What was the point? No matter what you thought of them at first, there would be that breaking moment when you saw how different they could be from what you knew—or rather, what you _thought _you knew. Nor would he ever show his own true emotions. There seemed to be no one who'd actually care.

And thus started his life as a tsundere.

Not that he wasn't already one, but that moment was when he finally resigned to it, continuing into his "Splendid Isolation".

Well, it wasn't really all that splendid at first, but to keep up appearances, he would have to go along with it. It wasn't so bad at first, but there came a time when he saw he was in dire need of a good friend.

F-for political reasons, of course. Why else?

He soon realized he practically forgot how to befriend someone. With Germany, for example, it didn't go as well as he thought it would. Er….

"_Hey, Germany! L-let's be friends!" Arthur almost exploded while thrusting a bunch of crimson roses into the other blonde's face. Ludwig's perplexed expression was covered by the bouquet, but he backed away a bit, said, "No thanks," and closed the door._

_England just stood there, stunned and quite unsure of what to do next. After regaining his composure, he sighed, and went on his way. _

A friend with benefits was just what he needed.( No, not _that _kind of friend.)

Then he remembered Japan. A seemingly quiet, stoic, strong nation wouldn't give him a lot of trouble, would he? Most likely not. But then again, you can never tell with people these days.

That resigned smirk found his face again, while he went off in search of his possibly-soon-to-be friend.

…

Arthur later found the Japanese man quite endearing, what with his politeness and reserved nature. Yet he still kept his guard up, as cynical as ever.

But that didn't stop him from savoring the blushing cheeks that sometimes greeted him when he would occasionally smile at the other. That in itself was a rare feat. Or the laugh, like music to his ears, that sounded when he hastily same up with a very tsundere-ish statement to cover up his earlier and more honest tenderness.

He was quite taken aback at how adept the Japanese was at reading the atmosphere and emotions. Very much more than he'd ever be. The autumn-brown eyes scanned him at their first meeting, searching for sincerity in his request. The Englishman was probably giving him the same treatment, though he felt a bit flustered at the attention being paid to him. It had been so long since someone observed him with such scrutiny. Then again, no one ever did. They just saw him as a loner and a loser, either regarding him with pity or scorn. He wanted neither.

But Kiku was a different story altogether. He himself was isolated, quite literally like the blonde was. Underneath all his seeming apathy, there seemed to be pride, intelligence, and what might have been respect. Then there was something else, a never-ending layer of something deep and soft and delicate.

"You know…" Arthur said almost unknowingly, to break the silence threatening to take over. "You….act differently with me then you do in the public." It was true. He was sure Japan never giggled or turned red that much, not even around Greece (for reasons he was eager to find out), and was curious about the enigma that was the raven-haired man.

Kiku was like the ocean that surrounded both of their countries: some days, you could tell what mood it was in. But on most days, it was unreadable, mysterious. With Japan, you could only see what he felt by looking into his chocolate orbs, almost too deep a chasm to be completely understood.

When the smaller man heard this, he let out a short, unexpected chuckle. He paused, smiling more widely than he'd allow himself to.

"I could say the same for you, Arthur-san."

Now, to say the Briton was surprised would be an understatement. His mouth was half agape and he almost keeled over in shock. "W-what's that supposed to mean?" he sputtered, flushing and looking away.

Kiku's only response was to laugh longer and louder, along with saying, "Just that."

Despite Arthur's embarrassed expression, he hid a small smile underneath, hiding it with his hand. When he was brave enough to show Japan, he did, face still a light crimson.

Never had both of them laughed like they did on that day.

While Arthur was on his long journey home, he thought:

_First impressions can't always be right, can they?_

But at that moment, he pondered this with no sorrow or betrayal, like he did before.

Instead, he smiled-or rather, grinned, happy for the first time of that notion.


End file.
